Chapter Ten.
My Anxiety is Calmed for a While—Illness of the Chief’s Wife—Finding the Wizard.
I need scarcely say that I did not stir from my hut that evening, being doubtful of doing so till I had ascertained how Metilulu had taken my refusal of his liberal offer; for liberal it was, as any one who is acquainted with the jealous love of the Kaffir for his cows would confess. So endeared, indeed, are these animals to them, that, to take one and place it in the midst of a strange herd, the owner can yet, without a moment’s hesitation, immediately select his own. Therefore, I repeat, the chief’s offer was generous, and consequently my refusal would be the greater insult to his royal desire. I waited and waited till the silver moon rose high; yet Tugela did not return. What was I to think of it? I could but read trouble, and my mind grew restless accordingly. As yet I had only witnessed the Kaffirs torture their cattle; how might they torture their victims? I had read how some of these wild tribes delighted in such things, and I shivered involuntarily; but of one thing I was resolved, that I would be true to Katie; and instinctively clutching an assagai, which had been left me, no doubt, by accident, I prayed that, if the worst came, it might not be considered a sin if I took, at one stroke, the life which, perhaps, these men about me would extract by slow torture.
So the time slipped away, and I was still engaged in painful thought, when the stillness of the night was abruptly broken by a sudden turmoil. Curiosity overcoming all other feeling, I crawled on hands and knees to the entrance of the hut and looked out. To my surprise, I beheld the young bride of that day’s ceremony in the midst of some three or four, other women much her elders, who, evidently uttering anything but complimentary epithets, were pulling and molesting her in a most extravagant manner, while she stood partly terrified and partly unable to return the assault upon her.
As an Englishman, I might have flown to the aid of the distressed; but I was in a strange country, and certainly at that moment in an equivocal position; therefore I felt I had much to learn of the customs of the natives before interfering, especially as I observed several Kaffirs placidly smoking at the entrance of their huts, and apparently enjoying the scene.
By their actions—for I could not understand a word of their language—I guessed that the four elder females were the wives of the bridegroom, and they had seized the first opportunity to show their jealousy of the new addition to the family.
The rage of the four assailants was increasing momentarily, and I began to fear the consequences, when there was a cry of terror, a lull, then a sudden skulking away of the group. A man—the bridegroom—had appeared in the midst, grasping a stick, with which he liberally belaboured the bare shoulders of his first wives, who, with affrighted cries, and amid the laughter of the spectators, hurried off to their hut, while the bridegroom followed at a more leisurely pace, accompanied by his new bride.
The event had made me for a while forget my own trouble; but when all again had become still, it returned to my mind, and I became more uneasy than ever at the delay.
I soon, however, felt convinced that Tugela would not come that night, for everything was growing quiet in the kraal, betokening rest. The smokers had crawled into their dwellings, the Southern Cross gleamed brightly overhead, and the stillness of nature was only broken by the occasional low of the cattle or the roar of some wild beast in the adjacent bush. So, stretching myself upon my mat, I tried to sleep by banishing my own troubles from my mind, and employing my brain by surmising what fate could have overtaken Jack Thompson and Mr Ferguson, the missionary. By this means I at last fell into an uneasy slumber, from which I did not awake till early morning, when my first thoughts naturally recurred to the chief’s proposal the day before, and, as I had waited on the previous evening, I now as anxiously did so for Tugela’s appearance. I also became aware that I was very hungry, and that no food had been sent me, which I was attributing to the first signs of Metilulu’s displeasure, when my attention was attracted by a commotion among the people. Peering stealthily out, I saw that concern was marked on the faces of every passer-by, as they went rapidly to and fro, casting suspicious glances at each other.
It was at this moment that Tugela at last appeared. I started up to receive him, and also make room for him to enter. On his doing so, my first question was as to how his chief had received my reply.
“Fortunately for you,” he answered, “the Great Eagle’s attention has been directed to another event—one which will affect all the kraal.”
“That has affected it, I should think,” I rejoined.
“You know what it is?” he questioned.
“No, not yet.”
“Then the favourite wife of Metilulu has been suddenly taken ill, and the kraal is all aroused to learn who has made her so. The chief has sent to the witch-doctor to find out.”
“The witch-doctor! Why?”
“Because it has been caused by magic.”
“What! do you think illness can come but by the influence of that?”
Tugela gravely shook his head.
“Yes; some one has a spite against Anzutu, and has cast the illness upon her. You need not now fear for yourself,” he added, “your rejection of the bride Metilulu would have given you is forgotten for the time by this last event.”
When he spoke thus, I was far from conceiving all that this superstition comprised, though I saw by his manner that it was something exceedingly serious; consequently, as he assured me that I was safe, I accepted his invitation to see the ceremony for discovering the wizard. He warned me, however, not to join the circle, as sometimes witch-doctors did not like white men.
Accordingly, having by his help satisfied my hunger, I left the hut with him, and soon heard that the witch-doctor had declared Anzutu’s illness arose from the hatred of one of the tribe—a wizard,—and that that person, having possessed himself of some article touched by the sufferer—a shell, some beads, or tuft of hair,—had buried it, and, by constantly repeating spells over the place, was occasioning the failing health of the chief’s wife, whose illness would certainly end in death if the wizard were not detected.
For the latter purpose, orders had been issued that all the Kaffirs should assemble together—the chief himself being present—at a given time, though time seems a strange term, for Caffraria knows little about it. The natives are aware that they wake in the morning, and, if the chief wills it, they may be dead before night; for the head man’s power is absolute, and the victim suffers without a murmur. Therefore with them time and life are very precarious possessions.
Advantageously placed by Tugela where I could see and not be seen, I soon beheld the space which had been selected for the trial begin to fill with Kaffirs, each with a very serious cast of countenance.
My common-sense told me that it was a farce I was about to witness—a farce which proved to have a terrible conclusion. I felt that the idea of these doctors detecting wizards must be an imposture, though the actors might even deceive themselves; and it seemed strange to me how the natives could put confidence in the infallibility of these men, when, by their faces, each dreaded that he would be the one accused, though knowing himself to be innocent.
Silently they all met; and my fat friend Metilulu, attended by a guard of “boys,” armed with knob-kerries, advanced and took a seat apart, smoking profoundly.
All, squatting down Kaffir fashion, awaited with evidently breathless suspense for the witch-doctor’s coming. At last he appeared, and a more hideous object I never beheld. He was of a most haggard, cadaverous aspect, and his lean body attenuated. In one hand he carried a stick—his wand,—to the top of which was fastened the tail of some animal. His garments consisted of the front and back fur aprons. About his neck was coiled a dead serpent, numerous tails of wild beasts hung over his breast and shoulders, while feathers of various hues adorned his issikoko, from which depended several charms; but the most striking sight was his face, which, like his body, had been daubed over with white earth; and the effect of this on the dark skin can be hardly conceived.
The entrance of this repulsive personage into the circle was received by a shout of welcome—a compulsory one it must have been, for none could have cared to have seen him. I did not, even from my place of concealment, and often thought that his horrible eyes, made startlingly apparent by the white earth, glared through the bushes and detected me.
With a slow pace the wizard made his circuit, quickening his speed as he went till it grew into a wild dance; while all the time he uttered some native chant, which increased in loudness as his movements did in rapidity. That any man could have been able to move his limbs with such swiftness, or leap so high, I never would have believed. It was rather the wild dance—the wild song of insanity. Song, did I say? The little melody it had at first possessed speedily vanished, and was replaced by frantic shrieks and cries as of a maniac; while tears actually streamed down his face, doing sad havoc with the white earth. First he sprang to this side, then to that—all cowering as he approached,—while he snuffed up the air, as if discovering the criminal by that means. I watched each movement with suspended breath, for I had been told that his wand would fall upon the victim, or the guilty person, according to these benighted people’s idea. Once he paused, and I saw those near him shiver perceptibly; then he fled off with a bound in another direction.
How long the scene lasted I cannot tell; but I know the excitement was beginning to tell upon me, when, with a sudden swoop, he struck the shoulder of one of the Kaffirs, then darted away. In an instant, like a swarm of locusts, the guard of knob-kerries were upon the unfortunate victim, preventing any attempt to escape; while I was afterwards told that the witch-doctor, dashing off, entered each hut he came across, sniffing violently to discover the spot where the charm was buried, and followed by a wondering awe-inspired crowd. Abruptly halting at one spot, he cast down an assagai, and ordered the people to dig—an operation which produced, as it generally did, a tuft of fur and some beads. This, in the Kaffirs’ opinion, proved the truth of the witch-doctor’s accusation; but, in mine, I fully believe that the articles had been placed there by himself previously.
All praise, say I, to those self-sacrificing men, the missionaries, who go among these people to improve them. Surely any one who can turn them a hair’s-breadth from their benighted ignorance is to be applauded. I am aware that some men, being utterly unsuited to the task, do more harm than good; but such men as Dr Livingstone—that truly noble missionary—we ought to honour with all our heart, as we should any man who will try to make civilisation take the place of such horrible barbarity as I have to record in the next chapter.